


Sunflower

by VilleneuveStGrgs



Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/F, Roman Myths
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:20:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25430794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VilleneuveStGrgs/pseuds/VilleneuveStGrgs
Summary: Carol went on vacation and got intrigued by the prettiest of all of the flowers there had ever been.Alone in her room, she thought to herself that springtime this year was particularly lovely – for the way it felt oh so bright and melodious.
Relationships: Carol Aird/Therese Belivet
Comments: 97
Kudos: 75





	1. Prologue & Carol, Like A Song? (Part 1)

Prologue

1.

All at once, all of the trees outside whispered in excitement when Carol woke up.

So sweetly, springtime’s rain was knocking on windows for a permission to caress the softness surrounding her skin. Rustling and excited little splashes on the corridor, everything was colored as soft and creamy a white shade as the surface of the full moon viewed from Earth.

When one second there had been nothing… the next one wakefulness had already invited a brand new world into her room.

She turned around and came face to face with a small bird skipping back and forth on the edge of the nightstand. Fur completely dry, it looked _ecstatic_ : chirping before doing a few rounds around her body so near it could lift up a stray hair or two so joyfully with the melody singing from its beak. Although the song it was cooing sounded oh so beautiful, all of its lulls and up-and-downs were impossible for her to understand.

Tired from the long journey down to this Southern small village, upon reaching the warm comfort of her new blankets she had fallen deep asleep almost immediately – only to wake up now, groggy and cranky due to unfamiliar bed hours. With the night sky and the full moon to keep her from being lonely, Carol stood up and made her way toward the front door to look through the luggage she had dropped there earlier out of deep fatigue.

Holding a small tea bag in hand, the promise of hot water from the kitchen lured her further inside like a strong pull of lovesick magnets.

…

From the kitchen’s tiniest window, the opposite cottage could be seen clearly – although somewhat obscured by an impressive bush of green. Had Abby said anything about her living arrangements at all… Something about a neighbor perhaps?

Thinking, thinking.

Its driveway stood empty with no kind of vehicle parked in… and then there also was this _something_ , a certain feeling somehow, so cold about the way the front door and windows over there were barring all entrance, closing up tightly.

Head still foggy from strange dreams, she was now having a hard time concentrating on the finer details during their latest phone call. Distracted fingers held up her tea for a little sip to stall and think for some more seconds, eyes toying with water steam afloat. Hmmm.

Oh, but of course…

There most definitely was someone living in there: Carol was growing to be more and more certain after some digging around in her memory.

Earlier in the afternoon – before coming inside for bed – out from the rental car she could remember her breath stuttering upon the sight of this one massive, _massive_ field of lovely flowers. Vibrant colors were starting in buds, some still young while some were already sporting a healthy size, each corner sweet like a fresh batch of candies when admired from afar by someone starstruck.

She had noticed some tiger lilies, for example… A big area for roses as well: the shape of their blooms so particular even from the distance that’d kept her away from all of the wonders that her nose should reach. Deep red petals looking like a circle of ballet dancers now holding hands.

So there _was_ a neighbor somewhere – the conclusion then came to her, for without a good hand, so caring and talented, flowers could never grow alone into a neat garden just like that.

The cup of jasmine tea soothed her softly, providing a nice contrast to the slight chill from the pouring rain outside. Where could her neighbor be tonight? Hopefully not stuck somewhere in this rain or worse?

2.

When Carol was in the middle of putting several things away and into her pantry – just the regular bags and bottles, non-perishable cans – the adorable little bird made its presence known once more. Its widespread wings seemed to be promising her wonders never traveled through.

The rain was letting up slowly but surely now: the smell of damp Earth and tea were coming together to become this one unique feeling that could turn around heartbeats.

Carol tried to keep track of the way the bird was twirling, how it would move so near toward her shoulders and then further once more. How it’d sometimes perch up onto the kitchen island before skipping back and forth, head bobbing with curiosity and beady eyes a wild shade that had so much wisdom, so promising. She shifted the bottle of honey into just one hand to try and reach out to it.

“What? What do you want me to do…?”

Everywhere her palm moved to, the creature ducked away yet its sounds never truly stopped.

One more round, just the one before it dipped and flew outside toward the giant canvas of the opposite cottage’s garden. All that was left in this kitchen now was just Carol, so wide-eyed and curious. (And was that an invitation…?)

Very well then, for she had all of tonight to spend, sleepless. Buttoning up another layer in order to keep warm, in a trance she stepped outside to the way the rushes of wind were teasing slowly.

The Earth underneath her shoes felt so soft now… so pliant with rain, each footstep forwards an undeniable impact transforming both this place and Carol’s heart as well.

Somehow– oh, was this possible at all? (A soft gasp) _Somehow_ her eyes were seeing as though moonlight was emitting out and away from the bumpy roots of this orange tree. The soft smell was calling out to her from the leaves to the abundance of its fruits hanging lowly.

And almost as if no time had passed at all, the little bird returned to hover around her side. Had this been its one true intention all along, to lure her here outside underneath this bush? It kept on chirping and swirling around her body – the songs it made felt familiar to those of the rushes of trees from earlier when the rain was still pouring down in shades. Not letting her touch it nor wanting to settle down onto the top of her arms, the curious thing flew back and forth with its wings now shrugging off winter.

But enough of that: Carol looked back to where her attention was pouring out to, out and away in waves and cadences. Branches rustled. The tree stood slightly to the side of her neighbor’s palace, and maybe it was all a trick of moonlight but from this angle – much closer than the view from where her kitchen had been – the faraway front porch was starting to look somewhat more inviting right now. Gone was the first impression of detached blurriness, for _this_ was real and the moon looming was shining equally as true, a sheen blanketing or a bright mirror now perching up onto the top of her heart.

Whatever these feelings might mean for Carol…

Sucking in a breath, she reached out to touch, with a splayed-wide palm, onto the rugged barks of this orange tree and felt _something_ … Something new, colorful and so vibrant to the touch. When she pulled away, those same rainy fingers moved up with a mind of their own and landed upon the very first fruit within proximity: the one that happened to be swaying to the light winds right around the top of her forehead. Nature was almost so scarce in the big city where she had always lived.

With a quick tug, the fruit was now hers. It felt _right_ underneath the tips of her fingers, so suddenly Carol thought with words not entirely her own. Its skin lightly pebbled, something else was whispering… oh, what, what was that?

It was whispering – even though wordless – that life was ready and that it would not take long before the right time could come for the true season of love.

She shook her head away from the stray drops of water falling on eyelids. Nothing seemed to make sense. As droplets of rain in bed had woken her up earlier they were now pulling her out of a sort of a daze, the clearest thought that she’d managed to compute ever since stepping outdoors came shortly afterward.

Maybe it was something else, some other reason… or maybe it was exactly the fact that she had _stolen_ from the orange tree that was now riling the bird up so terribly. Unbelievably angry, upset beyond what she herself could have foreseen, for Carol had not even known that lovely creatures like this tweeting thing could ever be able to express such amounts of anger like this. But, oh, how the scene was unfolding now. With anger as clear as daylight, it was now moving around so frantically.

First circling several rounds around the top of her head, it then hovered near the fruit in her hand… A blur of wings, feathers and movements incomprehensible, just the anger was clear and that its chanting had long lost its tunes so deep into the forest.

One more round – the last one – before it took off and headed then toward the eclipsed side of the neighboring cottage. Everything now was covered by the lone night sky and all the other stories maybe it had meant to ask. Not once had the bird touched her throughout all of its singing and hovering, and yet somehow its departure still managed to leave a hole so empty within the depths of her heart.

She had not meant for tonight to turn out this way at all.

Frozen in her spot, Carol tracked her eyes toward where the little bird had disappeared to. With the freshly-plucked orange in her hand still hovering mid-air… What had gotten into her like this?

  
  


Carol, Like A Song? (Part 1)

1.

The following morning with the orange now on top of the dining table and no mysterious bird in sight, Carol had a small sandwich with violet jelly before making her way into town. She had waited, oh, how she had tried to stay still and will with all of her might just for the bird to come rushing back… but it was to no avail at all. The sky was colored a clear, peaceful shade while completely empty of the little feathered friends’ tweeting.

If last night had been so strange – circumstances beyond comprehension, really – this morning was turning out to be even _more_ unusual than that… If that was possible at all. To her surprise and very (very) mild inconvenience, after some wandering and looking into every drawer everywhere, she had to come to terms with the fact that there was no clock at all anywhere inside of this cottage.

Which was so unusual, right, since everything else came abundantly furnished and the seven throw blankets in the wardrobe smelled like someone’d rubbed bright roses directly onto the top of her hands. _Who_ in their right mind would buy amazing-quality laundry detergent, five sets of bed sheets and seven throw blankets but no clock to speak of at all?

Oh, well. Maybe it was just mere forgetfulness, whoever the owner might be.

All things considered, this detail was not so important seeing as this was supposed to be a relaxing vacation for Carol’s part. Life would still go on fine and wonderful even if she didn’t get to wake up at 7AM sharp every single weekday morning. No clock in the cottage? That could be tolerated, such a small purchase surely could be taken care of very easily in central town somewhere along these fine cobblestone streets. All roads led to Rome or whatever it was that everyone was saying these days…

…Or so she had thought, since reality was proving itself to be too surreal for her to comprehend. No wristwatches and no clocks at all – not even on the tower now looming shadows over the busy marketplace there where she stood. Huh.

Bewilderment aside, she was surprised that such a casual, integrated part of city life could be ignored this thoroughly with such a level of conformity from all of the townspeople she had come across. Was it a cultural thing? _Why_ build this gigantic brick thing at all and not have it serve its purpose as a clocktower?

Deep in her aimless thoughts, it took a lovely blue-green car rolling past with a rumbly engine for her to snap back into reality. Everyone seemed to live their life here just as well and peacefully as could be, fancy wristwatches be damned, and so Carol just shook her head and decided to move on forward to take care of some more tasks still pending.

2.

The gentleman working at the booth did not know what time it was either, earlier when she stopped by to ask for her cottage’s landline to be activated. The post office’s front desk happily confirmed the transfer of her personal letters for the upcoming days toward this new address… Again, no clock and no time for crying out loud, but at least they still seemed to be aware of the concept of a calendar. Bare minimum and all that jazz.

She scratched her head and stared at the empty walls while waiting in the long queue for her turn to use one of the phone booths.

When was the last time that she went somewhere new and noticed this much detail anyway? Clocks usually were placed here… here… or here would be lovely as well, but after all, Carol supposed that each region had its own approach to the daily grind of life. Maybe business here did not need to be open on time? And people could close up and just head back home the very moment they felt like it?

This might take several days for her to get used to, and so she thought that it was best to just dedicate energy into some other things to think through, as in: What should she cook today and which novel should she break into first? – Such were the burning questions of someone now happily on vacation, far away from stress and numbers and despicable details.

Then her turn was up next. Just to be polite, she smiled at the person holding the phone booth open and murmured and soft “Thank you”.

With the glass door up behind her body for some more privacy, it took her a few long seconds for the line to ring into nothingness before Abby could pick up the phone handle from the other side of their country.

As it was now seemingly mid-morning and she’d chosen to call the landline at their shop, there always was this risk of the phone call going undetected since their office was placed way, _way_ back near the door opening up to their stockroom. And Abby, dearest Abby had always preferred being nearer toward the front entrance in order to chat up potential customers.

When she finally did pick up, although there was a curious sheen of static draping over every moment of their connection, her best friend’s voice was as clear and flamboyant as it had always been; And so Carol huffed out a whiff of breath, relieved that at least there still was this one thing that she could count on to be normal. Really, maybe the whole incident with the little bird the previous night had somehow managed to put her into such a sulky mood. Adorable as the twin cottages and the field of flowers were…

“Abigail Gerhard, from Gerhard and Ross’ Furniture. How may I help you?”

“Abby, dear, it’s me. You know… I’m still a firm believer that we should switch it to _Ross and Gerhard’s_ …”

Completely ignoring her little teasing, the glee in her voice got cranked up a couple of notches and everything was starting to sound a little bit more normal now:

“Oh, heyyy gorgeous. Miss me already? How is it going?”

“Hey you yourself. Everything is going great, I slept well last night…” – Surprising as it must sound, sleep had come to her peacefully after the furious departure of the little bird – “And how is our shop? Is everything alright?”

Abby tsk-ed at her from the other side of the connection – “It’ll be _fine_ , love, don’t worry. You’re on vacation now! Stop thinking about work for a damn moment, won’t you?”

Some more nagging and good-natured teasing took place before Carol remembered what she had been wanting to ask.

“Oh, before I forget. How did you find out about this place anyway? I did not know that you knew a lot of zen retreat corners to choose from for me.”

“Oh, what’s up? Do you like it?”

“I do actually! It is so cute… even though kind of unusual.”

Remembering that it had been a surprise present put together by her best friend and (now-in-college) Rindy, Carol hastily added – “But I don’t mean it in a bad way… You know how cranky I get sometimes when I have to sleep somewhere unfamiliar.”

On the other side of the landline, Abby took quite a long moment to um-and-ah aimlessly – no doubt trying to search through all the messy piles of her memory. It was always _too early in the morning_ for her dearest best friend to function properly.

“Ah, I remember now. Gen’s wine supplier told me and Rindy about it when he heard us trying to plan for your trip _in secret_ in her restaurant. He’s… what’s his name? Benny? Denny?” – Some rustling sounds of paper echoed through the physical distance separating the both of them – “So technically your neighbor owns that piece of land, but he acted as the middleman when we rented it for you. Oh!”

Abby then got distracted and started to rant:

“Love, he gifted us this _amazing_ bottle of red wine for free. What a gentleman! And he’s still so young! I swear, this bottle alone is probably worth like… uh. Oh, well, who knows really.”

That got a chuckle out from Carol.

“You know what they say, it’s just _so_ rude to know the price of a present anyway. We can save it until you get back here, alright?”

“Abby, hey, it’s fine. Share it with Gen this weekend. I know that sitting on it for too long would just drive the both of you out of your minds.”

Her best friend clicked her tongue and made a kissy sound – “Ha, if you say so. You know me so well. Listen, I’ve got to go now, you have fun, alright?”

“Of course. Thank you for paying for all of this again. Remember to stay out of trouble, the both of you!”

And then, somehow the strangest thing happened. It fell down like rainwater, an invisible mist but it was there all the same, undeniably so. Immediately, as soon as they had started to hint at the end of the conversation static started to grow louder and their voices somehow were now drifting further apart – as if they truly had been talking face to face, only to now move into separate rooms altogether.

“Oh but Carol, Gen and I _are_ the trouble!” was the last thing that she could hear from the terribly raucous woman before their connection faded off.

Unbelievable. Shaking her head fondly, she hung up and planned to get some grocery shopping done before going back in for another phone call with Rindy.

On her way back outside Carol hummed a brand new song, so lovely, hummed it all alone to her own two ears, and as it floated right over her head the sky now was painted a chalky shade of white-blue that looked almost transparent along with the clouds.

3.

On her quest for good food, Carol caught onto a delicious, warm buttery smell and after some searching around the corners she finally found herself standing inside of a very lovely-looking bakery shop. So small and quaint. The display counter was lined up with various kinds of glossy pastries, dessert mousses and fresh bread loaves as well – all of the things one generally could expect to stumble upon inside such a place like this.

The tiny sandwich from this morning now had all but disappeared deep within the pits of her belly.

Mouth-watering little cookies aside, there was something else so special about this place as well (and Carol wondered). Fantastic bursts of colors were coming from all of the bouquets of flowers propped up everywhere, all of them giving off pleasant odors that were permeating the whole shop very thoroughly. What was it about this town, and _what_ was it about all of these fancy-looking flowers that seemed to be paving on the streets everywhere that she walked to?

So busy in her admiration of an arrangement of orchids – _Orchids_! When was the last time that she’d been able to admire such intense colors? – she did not notice the vendor coming out from the back room to greet her.

“Good morning, Miss. What would you like today?”

A gentle-looking woman, probably somewhere around her late 60s, was now peering at her from across the panel made of glass.

She tore her eyes away from the mass of blossoms and glanced through the display counter. Everything looked way less colorful, of course, but she was getting quite hungry anyway and did not particularly want to go for a full meal in a restaurant somewhere else in town just yet. This would do for now. Shrugging to herself, she made a sweeping motion at the pastry corner

“Good morning to you as well. I’d love two of each, please.”

“Two of each, coming right up.”

They thus settled into silence as the older woman assembled her purchase into several brown paper bags.

This arrangement of orchids and baby’s breath weaving together truly was just _so_ mesmerizing. Such elegant colors, everything was curling and leaning together like an upbeat dance: from the chalky hues of rose and yellow to a fluttering bed of tiny dots, bright-white…

Still eyeing the flowers with so much curiosity, she spoke up once more – “Excuse me for asking, Ma’am, but are these flowers yours or did you buy them from somewhere else?”

The vendor’s eyes looked up.

“Oh, do you mean these? I have always had the shop deliver them to me, Miss. Are you new in town?”

“I just got here yesterday, that’s right” – And then they were smiling at each other somewhat more warmly now.

“I see, that explains then. Well, we only have one florist around here… you can find her shop at–”

“There is only one florist?” – Quite surprised, she could not help intervening.

While this was not a big town in any way or definition (more like an expanding village really), Carol knew that the area was attracting more and more short-term residents as well as tourists, who looked for a vacation to wind down and breathe in more fresh air – just like she herself. This little boom in tourism meant that there must’ve been more demand for inns, hotels and restaurants and everything like that. More flowers for everyone everywhere. Only one florist in town sounded like it’d be quite an intense job for whoever that was.

Putting her order into a larger bag, this one with a handle ready to go, the older woman shrugged and gave a non-committal sound – “She is very good at what she does, I’d say. You can find her four streets away from here… Just turn left at the cobbler’s store and keep on walking straight ahead, Miss.”

“Okay, thank you so much.”

Carol paid for her pastries, nodded her head goodbye and stepped outside to a gentle breeze that was heading its way toward the further wing of this town just like she herself.

…

In the end, she did not walk through the four intersections and did not open the front door leading into this flower shop at all – oh, no, nothing like that. What had happened here was that the roads, the sun and that light breeze all had worked together to carry her throughout all of this distance, and it was after both of her feet were safe and sound on the tile floor inside this shop did she snap out of her trance and back into such a colorful reality.

And what a place it was, the only flower shop in town! It certainly did live up to all of her expectations and then some more.

Looking around and seeing that there was no one around for now – the bakery’s vendor had said that the florist was a woman, had she not? – Carol took some time to inspect a few ready-to-go bouquets all stashed neatly into a row right in front of the cash register.

So curious, she then proceeded to crouch down and sneakily bring her nose closer to several buckets of roses, all of them now looking oh so sweet and perky to her amateur eyes.

And what were these called again? There was always more to discover and even more to look at, past the horizon. When it came to flora, she could not claim that she was an expert in any way whatsoever… Having never felt much interest in anything “nature” at all up until this trip.

For example, out of this whole bunch she only could recognize all of the roses and orchids peeking out here and there. Maybe lilies, tulips and peonies as well?

These were peonies, right?

And as for all the other kinds… well, she could always learn to enjoy beauty without being able to name these correctly, that wouldn’t be too big of a problem for her at all. Such lovely colors…

Her eyes then fell upon some cursive handwriting on one of the large ribbons keeping the bouquets tightly and in shape the way skillful hands had intended it to be. Fingertips reached to smooth out all of the finer wrinkles. There was the name of this town written on top, the street where this shop stood as well as a phone number… and… Ah-hah!!, so here was the florist’s name after all!

Her feet lurched and stepped up a minuscule inch so much nearer. Everything else faded away.

In reality, things always shifted so much faster than the perception and translation from the brain down to the heart and up, backward once more. 

What would the name be like and how would it look ink on paper…? Would it sound soft and yielding like a fresh petal? (So sweet and nice?) So syrupy or would it be direct and firm just like the way a rose’s stem was?

In loopy little lines drawn from black ink, so prettily, the ribbon read: _Ther–_

“Hello, how may I help you?”

Oh, shoot. The perception-thus-translation loop got disrupted with a little sound. Just before her brain could process through all of the letters that added up to become that special name, Carol’s heart seemed to already have decided upon a reaction without her knowing, all on its own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there :-) Here is the beginning of a project that I have been spending quite a bit of time on. It is inspired by a very well-known Renaissance painting. I'm testing the waters, let us now see if I can handle the (light) fantasy genre...
> 
> For a bit of background, I plan for this little town to be Grasse in southern France, which has a long history of the art of perfume-making, which already is quite romantic in its own right :-) and also its geographic location serves for some of my later scenes as well.
> 
> And last but not least, I agree with Prince_Hel's author note on the 10th chapter of her story "Some People Change Your Life Forever"! I can't speak on behalf of any other writer, but writing has always felt sort of "risky" to me in the way that I play around with a lot of the things I find beautiful and meaningful, personally. And as a result, it comes with the (steady) uncertainty that my sentiments aren't easily shared/relatable with a lot of people out there. So please leave kudos and/or comments, they really do motivate the process!


	2. Carol, Like A Song? (Part 2)

4.

Carol felt like she’d been busted, what with all of this snooping around all over the place and smelling everything her eyes fell for. Behavior completely unfamiliar to her usual self, now resembling the sneaky thief that maybe she had always been after all this time.

Straightening up her posture, she turned around to come face to face with the owner of that sweet voice…

…And found herself staring down at a  _ very _ adorable woman with fluffy dark brown hair, who looked like she’d be maybe– what? Around twenty or twenty-five years old now? She couldn’t be anymore older than that.

So at least fifteen years younger than she herself then, some snappy mental math was telling her with a voice much like a sing-song melody. If this had been in the city and dearest Genevieve had not conquered Abby’s heart at all, surely her best friend would have  _ fallen _ all over this lovely flower like she was the only thing her eyes could see, breathless. (And Carol shut down the parts of her brain that were teasing about all of the things that  _ she _ herself would have done as well. Oh, shhh. Stop it.)

She straightened up some more and watched the way the younger woman was staring at her with so much surprise, so apparent in her body language.

Those eyes were painted the brightest shade of green that she had ever come across – and yet somehow they seemed to be stretching out, almost so infinite in their softness as well. Like emerald, or like all of the tiny buds just before flowers started to bloom out from.

“Good morning, do you work here?”

What a silly question,  _ of course _ she must work here. She stifled a sigh in vague self-embarrassment.

They stared at each other and the younger woman suddenly stepped back to widen up the distance found between their two bodies and – huh. Up until this very moment she had not even realized that they’d been standing face to face like this with less than an arm’s length apart… More like up-to-her-elbows apart, really. She tracked her eyes through every little movement and wondered what could have called for this much surprise within the woman she was trying to have a casual conversation with.

The brunette stared for some more before seemingly remembered just where she was. Where and when. Green eyes lowering (leaving hers and letting this strange coldness rush in), and with a very swift shake of her head, she stepped back some more and shyly nodded – “Um, yes I do. How may I help you?”

Well, now  _ that _ was a very good question she’d asked. How might she help her today?

Carol didn’t really know if she even wanted to buy any flower at all. After all, there was a whole garden full of these right in front of her front yard, unless her own two eyes were greatly mistaken last night? What was the point of bringing them indoors anyway, only to dip cut branches into inches of water instead of letting them thrive among the soil and all of its endless heartbeats?

And how long would they be so pretty for? Maybe a week or two before she had to replace them with even more trapped buds?

But still: it was growing to be quite hard to ignore such beauty, shimmering and irresistible to her curious eyes. She twisted her lips and glanced at the furthest wall, the one with a door slightly open, no doubt leading the way out and toward even more mesmerizing flowers in the backyard.

“Are you the florist here, Miss?”

Both hands busy – trying to fix up some ribbons that Carol had unintentionally displaced (Oops!) – the younger woman had her head tilted with a faint hint of amusement somehow.

“I am, yes. And… um, are you new in town?”

Oh. Here went that question once more: first the vendor from the bakery earlier and now this darling young woman as well. Was it that obvious? Was she not blending in so well with this sleepy town’s endless array of sundresses and light clothes?

“ _Yes_ , yes I am. I just arrived last night” – Trying to gauge some sort of reaction from the other woman, on a whim she decided to add this tidbit as well – “I’m staying in one of the twin cottages by the edge of the woods… The ones with the doors and windows painted light green.”

At long last, that managed to catch all of her attention, every last ounce of it.

“Maybe a twenty-minute drive away from here, a bit up North after the last roundabout and past the poplar trees. Do you happen to know where that is?”

Oh Christ, Carol. There probably were, like, fifty or more cottages that could fit that description around the outskirts of this tiny town. And on top of that, maybe her neighbor was just the type of person who really was into growing flowers in their free time; that alone wouldn’t automatically mean that they would be a florist. Well. All or nothing, right?

But deft hands stilled anyway and that lovely face turned to look at her just a tiniest bit more heads-on – “Past the poplar trees and up North?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Do you mean… the one in front of a field of flowers and a very big orange tree?”

Huh. What were the odds?

“That’s right, dear, my best friend Abby rented it for me as a surprise gift. Does that ring any bells to you?”

If anything, the lovely young woman only reacted by shifting backward even further away. Carol tried to catch those doe eyes more subtly and steadily.

“Oh, so it’s you! Danny already told me about it, I was just on my way back home to greet you now.”

Well aware that her gaze had a habit of getting too intense in front of… ahem… pretty ladies, she tried to be tame and avoid scaring off this newest neighbor slash acquaintance. This bit of information matched with what Abby had said through their phone call earlier this morning: Denny-Benny-Danny or whatever it was, everything probably sounded exactly the same way in Abby’s messy night-owl head anyway.

“That’s that. It looks like we’re going to be neighbors then, dear. I’m Carol.”

Looking shy yet pleased (could this be real?), her florist started to inch in closer like a very tiny rabbit. Ah-hah.

“Carol” – Green eyes hidden within a massive pile of baby’s breath, she then sounded it out with a lovely smile – “ _Carol_ , like the way they sometimes call a song?”

Having never made the association between her name and music up until this exact moment at all, she supposed that it could very well be what her parents had had in mind when they’d decided to name her like that.

“And what about you? However shall I call you then?”

A blush came over her features and Carol thought that the color perfectly matched with that of the buds of a rose. Well, that’d gotten lame real fast. Too much of a cliché. Maybe she should brush up on her ability to distinguish flowers – if only to make more adequate comparisons from now on to describe this darling shade.

“My name is Therese. Therese Belivet.”

Therese. So that was what was written on that silk ribbon she’d held. _Therese_ , as breathy and light as a breeze, morning, speechless.

“The-rese Be-li-vet” – She drawled for the sweetness the five syllables left upon the tip of her tongue. Five, six, seven, eight, a jolly tune could be heard if sung just right, like that – “ _Therese_ , like a what, darling?”

Her blush burned even more aflame.

“Like… well, it’s not like a song or anything the way yours is. I just thought that the name sounds nice…”

“Oh me too, Therese. Me too. It really does sound so special coming from your voice, doesn’t it?” – Trying to make her neighbor more at ease, she decided to quit her teasing altogether and gave some compliments on the bouquets she had on display on the shelves out front.

And it also was  _ nice _ that the space in-between their bodies had started to grow thinner, gradually.

5.

As it turned out, today was actually one of Therese’s off days and she’d just stopped by the store to water some buds of mint planted in the backyard, still so greedy for sunlight and moisture. Even as the store was not open to receive anyone, her florist must have been too polite to mention anything at all about it. Even went on and humored her hovering over the bouquets for quite some time, and it took some very intense yawning for Carol to notice that she had been growing increasingly restless and sleepy.

“Oh, look at you. Where have all of my manners gone to today? I’m so sorry, darling” – Wincing at her own insensitivity, she got out of her hair and watched Therese sheepishly fish her keys out from the depths of one pocket.

Only a few seconds to close up the front door and then they started to walk off toward the communal parking lot.

Synchronizing their footsteps together, she wondered just where they finally would part ways upon reaching their respective vehicles. Two separate cars on the same road did sound a bit excessive – really, seeing as her florist was starting to yawn more often now, upper body burrowing deeper and deeper into her soft woolen cardigan. Looking as comfortable as a shiny lucky star.

And she remembered some other details as well.

“You were away last night, weren’t you? I didn’t see your car in the driveway and your home didn’t have any light on either.”

“Oh, yes. I visited some friends and I woke up early this morning to avoid traffic on the highways on my way back.”

Carol chuckled at her shy dimples. What a cute florist.

“Well… would you let me drive you back home? My errands in town are all done today and you shouldn’t be behind the wheel while being this sleepy, you know…”

_God_ , she hoped that the younger woman did not think of her as being too pushy or anything like that. Too pushy, too much too soon. But was she? With all of these impulsive offers and compliments?

With a lot of sneaky glances from those wide eyes whose weight Carol could feel all over her skin, her florist hesitated, both feet shuffling mindlessly on the crossroad – “Oh, Carol. I just don’t want to bother…”

“I wouldn’t have offered at all if that was to be the case, dear.”

Deciding that she would not push if it was making her florist uncomfortable, she just explained and let her choose however she liked – “I’m already on my way back home anyway, and I really don’t mind giving you a ride back into town once more for you to collect your car… Be it tomorrow morning or whenever it is that you want.”

After all, they had just met each other maybe thirty minutes ago ( _at most_ , but who could say for sure?). To be fair, if something like this happened in her shop back in the city Carol surely would try to find a way to refuse as politely as possible, so she got it. Totally. No hard feelings at all.

But, huh, it seemed like Therese already had started to follow down her same pathway, like the tiny honey bee that she truly was. That… did not take much convincing. And as a matter of fact, the younger woman was in the middle of eyeing her pastry bag with crystal-clear interest as well.

What if she  _ kidnapped _ Therese? The insane suggestion rose up like a wave, and she blamed it all on that very specific feeling one had when one came across something too adorable to comprehend: There was the need to bite or to squeeze those sweet cheeks in-between the plains of her fingers. And here she thought that such knee-jerk reactions must have been over by the time one reached thirty? Became a cool, calm and collected adult or whatever the idea was?

“Here you go” – As nonchalantly as possible, she handed the bag over and felt, more so than heard, a very soft sound of surprise. A teeny, tiny excited little  _ Oh?  _ that had her heart melted like hot wax down all over the floor – “You must be so hungry from your early trip back here?”

“Thank you, Carol. Are these from that place with the–”

She opened the passenger’s door for her florist to slide so neatly in. Took an awkward jog to the other side of the car just in time to witness bright green eyes scrutinizing, one by one, at the paper bags filled full with flaky buttery wonders – “Um, let me remember. Four streets away from yours, past the cobbler’s store? Maybe-mid-60s vendor who has a whole showcase just for your lovely bouquets?”

Made busy by the promise of sweet treats, Therese seemingly did not register the tone of her voice when she had said  _ lovely  _ out loud.

“Oh! That bakery is my favorite one.”

Chuckling at doe eyes, Carol helped the engine come to life and all of a sudden felt as suave as all hells, melted down into a softening puddle – “Well, alright. Help yourself to whatever you want then, darling.”


	3. Globe Mallow Bees, It Is No Longer Winter

1.

A couple of days later, a knock sounded out from the front door just as Carol was settling down by the dining table for some light reading with a freshly-squeezed lemonade. The quick rap was then accompanied by a very soft voice calling out her name: Although the distance had tried to conceal all of its special timbres, from the way her attention shifted she just knew, automatically so, that it was Therese’s.

Excitement then rose up from within her body like a red chalk peony, fresh from the store and still closely followed by whispering lovebugs. Therese, oh Therese, it was (her) sweetest Therese.

“I’m coming!” – She hollered before moving the odd chairs and glasses back into place. Why was she here anyway? Did she stop by to talk about something, maybe some additional rules to remember during her stay in this cottage?

Her lovely face popped up from the other side of the front door when she went to open up and, ah. Of course. Just as Carol had suspected secretly: Her florist looked even prettier in this faint glow, against the darkening twilight with bright green looking up for them to maintain eye contact like this. The best-selling murder mystery she’d started to read yesterday was forgotten even faster than the most eager person on Earth could have said “Hey, you!”

And so she did  _ not  _ act eager at all – “Hey, you. How do you do?”

“Carol… Hi. Am I catching you at a bad time?”

“Not at all, dear. Is everything alright?” – Upon pulling the collar of her robe closer to avoid a teasing gust of wind, she noticed the way green eyes discreetly lingered. Scanning all of the flutters her robe made, short-circuiting before rushing up once more.

“I was wondering… if I could borrow some honey from you? I don’t have any left at home for tea.”

“ _Borrow_? Oh Therese, don’t be so silly, I have a full jar in my kitchen. Come.” – Starting to move back into the living area while beckoning Therese inside, she stopped short upon seeing that her florist was still standing, unmoving from that one fixed spot by the front door.

“I use up a lot of it though… Are you sure that you don’t mind?”

“Absolutely certain, darling. I hardly ever use it myself” – And she touched her by the wrist to lure her in – “So… would you? Come in for some tea with me?”

Like a fluffy vampire waiting for explicit invitations, it was only then that Therese shifted and started to walk inside toward the kitchen, right next to her side.

2.

Putting an extra cup down just as Therese’s eyes stopped wandering around the area with curiosity, she started – “Here you go”

And saw the stolen orange on top of the dining table, still sitting there as innocently as could be. Could her florist tell that she still thought about her first night here, from time to time? Halfway believing, halfway convincing herself that she had imagined everything that’d taken place…? For all of those moments felt just like a blurry dream now, surreal and so intangible everywhere she looked.

But that was just impossible: She hadn’t told Therese about it, had never told anyone at all. The orange served as a kind of proof (evidence, or a reminder for her strange feelings), and so she kept it here, worlds and continents far away from all of the other wonders she’d brought back from the colorful market in town.

As a matter of fact, springtime’s rain had never paid her another visit ever since that strange, strange night. There was just Therese, her dearest Therese – who sometimes looked at her like she was the only person ever capable of hanging up the midnight moon.

She ignored her thoughts and saw bright eyes studying the messy mountain of books she’d piled up together after unpacking. Picked the one she’d started yesterday and moved it over just so her florist could catch its title more clearly – “So this is what I’ve been reading to keep myself busy. It’s some sort of murder mystery, kind of fast-paced and complicated but I like it that way…”

Her curious gaze flicked up to look at her before moving back to stare at the book’s cover once more – “Oh, me too. I finished it a few months ago, I think. It’s actually–”

Oh. Oh no. She didn’t want to know about it.

“Hey, shush, don’t spoil!” – Carol playfully tutted while running a hand through her neighbor’s upper arm to distract her from finishing her train of thought. (And her skin there was just so soft, and so so warm!)

“I meant to say that it’s actually this book whose ending surprised me the most recently. I wasn’t going to  _ spoil  _ you.”

Her neighbor wrinkled her nose with a pointed look… Even tried to feign haughtiness as well but they both were aware that she did it just to tease, good-naturedly. And did someone turn on the heating in here while neither of them was paying attention to their surroundings, so busy staring into each other’s eyes like this? With the sight of that grin and those ever-growing dimples, everything she did sounded just plain adorable to Carol’s ears at first – and like big, oh, very big trouble to her rumbling heart all at the same time.

“Of course. I’m _so_ sorry for doubting you, _Your Highness_ ” – A mock bow from Carol made her grin turn into a giggle with apparent surprise – “So, you have to tell me something.”

“Uh-huh”

Her pretty florist then sat up straighter, alert with wide eyes.

Her fingers slipped through the pages and she looked at the way green eyes tracked their movements unwaveringly – “Do Rami and Anna get together by the end? They have been flirting and I just  _ cannot  _ stand not knowing the outcome of all of this. Anna isn’t the killer from the beginning, is she?”

“Oh, that!” – Therese tilted her head and seemed to be thinking through something: She could just  _ hear  _ the sounds the tiny cogs were making from behind those eyes – “I can’t just tell you, just like that. I thought that you didn’t want for your ending to be  _ spoiled  _ by me?”

Was her florist, her lovely, shy and serious florist finally cracking a joke now? Her first joke for all of their interactions so far and it was made specifically just to tease Carol. She rolled her eyes as a response… but not without running fingers through her skin once more, just to be able to memorize saccharine sweetness.

Between all of that thinking and their continuous staring at each other, the kettle made a soft click to announce that water finally had arrived at the right temperature for their tea time.

“Fine, but just so you know, I can and  _ will _ complain if the way it ends isn’t to my liking. I have a few boxes of tea here, you can choose whatever you want, darling. And here is your honey as well.”

… 

Carol could not help staring at the way her neighbor was bobbing her head up and down while inspecting the numerous containers of tea she had. Oh, God, what an adorable little thing.

If she could just  _ squeeze _ those cheeks and then move in closer… 

Waving off the strange compulsion, she turned her book over to read its summary once more while still keeping an eye on the way her neighbor started to spoon honey into her still-empty cup. Critical eyes with intense concentration, the whole nine yards. Here went: one spoonful… Everybody loved a touch of honey for their very-berry infusion from time to time, right? So that one was reasonable.

The second spoonful, huh. It seemed a bit too much, but whatever floated her boat, she supposed. 

By the third time Therese-the-greedy-bee made her way back inside the sticky container, she was now having a very hard time containing her chuckle just so she wouldn’t get spooked and try to fly away. All of that honey? And where would she even pour hot tea into?

“So… where do you know Danny from? He’s never told me about you before” – With a casual tone, she asked while mixing up her boiling-hot beverage so carefully. Between Carol and her own speeding heart, it looked more like she was stirring some tea into her one-third-full cup of honey with the way her ratio of the two liquids was turning out to be.

And her hands looked  _ so _ fine and dainty, so hold-able as well. Would they fit right here, right inside of hers how petals overlapped, if she was to be just a touch of silky-soft-pollen bolder tonight…?

Oh, wait. She’d just asked her something. Focus now, for the rest of her imagination could be continued when she was alone…

“Who? Your friend Danny? Oh, I don’t actually.”

And her neighbor looked up to meet her eyes with a frown as light as an already-blown dandelion – “What do you mean?”

“I think I’ve already told you, no? My best friend, Abby, organized all of this as a surprise gift for me. This cottage, train tickets and my rental car as well… Just about everything really. I’ve never met your friend.”

“Abby” – Therese mumbled with a pensive look painted all over her face – “I can’t say that I know of anyone named Abby or Abigail…”

It was quite amusing, but also just a tiniest bit so unusual as well. Why did it matter that her florist didn’t know who Abby was and that she herself had never met this Danny before? And, oh, here came that thoughtful stare she’d noticed during the car ride the morning they had met each other for the very first time: It was the stare people always had whenever they thought of something improbable, but had no idea just how to broach the subject and start to talk.

“What are you thinking about?”

In an effort to push all of her thoughts away, Therese shook her head like a wet puppy before turning back to face her fully – “Oh, it’s nothing. May I ask you something else?”

“Of course, dear. Anything you want.”

“Do you know of any Marie, Louise or Phil? He goes by either Phil or Théophile?”

As if this extra bit of information was supposed to make everything less confusing at all…?

“Let’s see. I know this one Marie, she’s the wife of one of the drivers in my delivery team” – Carol picked the orange up just to have something solid to play with while thinking – “Say, around fifty years old with reddish hair and a little mole on the lower side of her left cheek. A bit grumpy as well. Surely she is not the person you’re thinking of in mind?”

A swift shake of Therese’s head confirmed as much, wordlessly.

“Well, there you go. Other than that one Marie I don’t know anyone else whose name fits the ones that you mentioned. Why do you ask? Is it important to you?”

“No, no reason. I was just wondering…”

She waited for some more explanation but nothing else came afterward… And probing felt inappropriate as well since her neighbor had grown silent, now staring down at her tea.

Still bearing a thoughtful crinkle nearing the top of her forehead, Therese waved a palm to dismiss this train of conversation and started to talk about something else – some small talk unimportant and completely unrelated to this topic. Her segue stilted and preoccupied by the many things unsaid but still hovering like a nearby cloud.

It wasn’t a dark, overtly moody cloud or anything like that either. Well, how to best describe it? The feeling was just there, _hovering_ , and she truly did not know how to move forward.

So confused, Carol sat back and ran the spoon around in her glass of lemonade, just to give all of her fingers something physical to unleash their restlessness on. What a strange girl her neighbor was.

3.

A while later, she knew that it was getting late by the way Therese had started to yawn discreetly. Before she could say anything to let her florist go home, on her merry way to bed, the latter shook her head once more (in that same “wet puppy” manner from earlier) and finished her cup of tea with a gulp. Looking like she now was running out of time.

“Oh, I almost forgot! Your daughter actually called me a few days before you came here.”

“My Rindy?”

“That’s right. Rindy said that it’s been a long time since you last had some real vacation. She asked me to–” – She made a very vague hand gesture – “Show you around the area, maybe be your tour guide for some sightseeing or something like that?”

“Is that so?” – Carol ran fingers through her hair and then started to clean up – “My sneaky little daughter. Well, then… What do you have in mind?”

“I’m friends with the Sisters in a convent a few hours from here by car. They have quite a big vineyard, rare flowers and I think some lavender there as well. Maybe… you might enjoy spending a couple of days there with me?”

“Even  _ more _ flowers? Oh, my” – She chuckled upon seeing such obvious excitement on her neighbor’s face. Her lovely grin was just so contagious.

“I love it already. What day do you think will work best for you and your shop?”

“I haven’t figured it out yet. The new season is coming soon, it’s almost time to renew contracts with some of my customers… And…”

Slowly, slowly, they started to waltz side by side toward Carol’s very reluctant “Goodnight”. Their time together had run through its course much too early, too abruptly for eager hearts.

“ _And_?” – She prompted at the sight of her florist hesitating.

“I have a map at my shop, you know. Would you want to come sometime tomorrow, so I can show you where the convent is? It was built high up the mountains, surrounded by a forest with very beautiful views…” – And then she backtracked, just as carefully – “Only if you aren’t busy, of course. I’m sure that you would rather stay here to continue reading, instead of having to go into town every other day just to keep me company.”

Leaning down to kiss her on both cheeks in lieu of a proper goodbye, Carol whispered lowly to avoid the grinning trees and all, all of their teasing rumors

“Therese, you know that I would love to do anything with you. Will you let me drive you into town tomorrow morning?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a very quick note here, their trip to the convent should be around the 8th chapter... I'll mention it once more when the time finally comes :) 


	4. Oranges From Seville

1.

“Therese? Is that you?”

A slight pause

“Why did you leave our bed like that, so suddenly?”

Upon noticing the younger woman standing and looking away from where she was, Carol whispered at first, but her own voice echoed back strangely and they both knew that it sounded like that only because they had been fated to meet each other here. Somewhere within the borders of a very wobbly dream.

In this instant – unlike the last dream that had occurred earlier on this same night – Therese’s hair was braided into a very complicated-looking pattern, and they were not lying down and facing each other in bed… Not anymore. She had never seen her wearing her hair like that in real life.

“Therese” – She tried once more and the beautiful figure finally turned back around to face her fully. The shapely face, almost as if sculpted right into marble, still looked as hypnotizing and unforgettable as the first time she’d ever run into her underneath moonlight.

With a dazzling grin that could illuminate this entire palace they just so happened to find each other inside, Therese stood up onto her tiptoes for them to be somewhat at around the same eye level, face to face. Like a sun posing for flora, or like flowers perking up and bearing hopes to greet sunlight. Which of them here was the springtime sun trying out ballets, and which of them was playing the role of a mesmerized flower staring at the spotlight?

“On the night of my arrival, I took an orange from that tree in front of your house… Are you upset about it at all? Are you that small bird who did not wish to be kissed by me?”

They both moved closer to orbit each other’s little stratospheres. The mischief in green eyes said that she already was aware of everything, everything, even though she had not been there – “Really? You did? Why did you do such a thing?”

“I… I can’t seem to remember. I don’t know. Oh, Therese, are you…”

“No, of course not. That’s nothing to be upset about. And I can’t turn into animals, I thought that you already knew that. Have you bitten into that orange you held?” – Therese (who also went by another name, in another language so much older) moved forward and put both of her hands onto the top of her shoulders. Still standing up on the graceful tips of her toes, naturally she had to lean forward to help keep her own equilibrium, and in moving nearer her amusement and deep confusion reflected so much more clearly in bright green eyes.

Along with a strange, strange touch of nostalgia that felt entirely too ancient to belong so perfectly on her beautiful features like that.

“I only planted that tree because I missed it so much, you know. The way everything was… how perfectly carefree life was back then. How perfectly carefree _I_ was, back then.”

What?

Her shoulders felt bare underneath her touch – warm and comforting, and so realistic as well. Her darling light smile was ever-present, almost there to say that… that they could come back to bed soon, together after this bizarre and confusing conversation; but her sleepwear still was intact the same way she had gone to bed alone after finishing up her own tepid glass of lemonade last night.

Going to bed together? What? They barely knew each other, if that, and had had their first friendly conversation only a couple of hours ago. Dreams had never wanted to make sense before, of course, of course. It was unbelievable that she could be this self-aware while still deep asleep anyway, standing fixated as the air surrounding her skin was distorting incoherently into explosive bright lights.

And of course, dream-Carol did not feel it all too necessary to ask her for any more explanation, even though there were just so many details in those sentences that she could not come to understand. Missed what so much? And when was this _back then_?

“But you don’t know Danny or any of the people we still keep in touch with. _Everybody_ knows Danny” – Green eyes were frowning and she stood immobile underneath their scrutiny – “Carol? Have you forgotten everything, somehow? Or are you really not–”

2.

The billowing ringtone of her landline woke Carol up with a very light start, as sweet sunlight was illuminating her bed from the head pillows down to her socked feet as well. Instead of the shrill sounds she was accustomed to back in the city, she supposed that this machine actually sounded kind of …enjoyable?, in its strange own way. The displeasure of being jolted up awake thus mellowed out slowly.

It was just annoying that she had woken up right before dream-Therese could finish asking her about something. Something… about who she was? Did she remember it correctly? It sounded very important, of that she was a hundred percent so sure and certain.

She stood up and put away the pillow she had been hugging closely – no doubt some kind of subconscious reaction because dream-Therese had been moving nearer during the lightning-quick last second she still could remember seeing. Stepped away from bed and very reluctantly moved out toward the living area to reach the insistent ringing, now demanding at once all of her sleepy attention – “Morning, it’s Carol Ross speaking.”

“Good morning Carol, it’s Therese. Is it too early for you?”

Therese? Why in the world was she calling her instead of knocking and talking face to face just like the way they had last night, right by the front door?

With a very inelegant stumble, she plopped down to lie across the couch – stomach first with her face burrowing into a stray cushion – and carefully cradled the phone handle just so her clumsy fingers wouldn’t accidentally cut off that sweetest voice calling out her name.

“You said that you wanted to drive me into town today… But it’s all right if you’ve changed your mind and don’t want to anymore now. I’ll let you go back to sleep?”

Oh, _that_. Even the most incoherent part of her brain could remember her leaning down to kiss on Therese’s cheeks last night.

“Wait, wait a second” – Carol stretched to knock her forehead against the armrest and tried to sound somewhat convincing – “I haven’t changed my mind, darling. I’d love to keep you company at your shop today, still.”

A beat of hesitation.

“Oh, okay… then you can come over later, whenever you wake up once more. I can just go by myself now.”

“Wait, _Therese_. Wait. Let me… but, just, ten more minutes here. I promise” – She then yawned and shuffled deeper into the fluffy embrace of her couch. Pulled the blanket up over her eyes to stubbornly block away sunlight. If luck was shining her way, just for the slightest sliver of it, maybe she could go back to that one lovely… _lovely_ dream where they… – “Hold on, make that thirty minutes, won’t you? You know how long thirty minutes take, right?”

“You really don’t have to…”

Sleep was overtaking her senses once more and Carol felt herself drop the phone handle down limply. Felt it settle right next to her face. Its mouthpiece hovered just _one_ short inch away from her lips, the sensitive stretches of skin still tingling with the way they’d been kissed in the dream that had lasted for the longest portion of all of last night. Real or imagined, all of her body was able to remember everything.

…

“Are you still there?”

Some slow rustling sounds echoed before a soft affirmation could be heard bouncing forward… and then Therese’s whispered “Yes, I am” made itself be known.

She traveled the short distance and let plastic touch and caress all over her demanding skin.

Deep within her own memory – of a dream happening within a dream – the younger woman’s mouth had felt so much softer than the stiff crescent shape of this device. Such details were impossible to forget even as the longest hours had passed since then. Tiptoeing on the fine line between sleep and wakefulness, she also thought of that one childish game of telephone, of two tin cans connecting by a very thin line of thread. Voices into vibrations, and vibrations being translated back into vague sounds.

“Therese, what should I wear? I don’t want to look so obviously from out of town… What do you want me to put on today?”

She pressed her lips closer to feel more of that lovely pressure and whispered unintelligibly. The inappropriate nature of these questions didn’t even register since it was still too early for her common sense to help with the filters of her brain.

One second passed through their bodies in silence, and then two, then three.

No answer came forth. Maybe her florist had stepped away to let her sleep in for some more now… Or maybe she had become much too uncomfortable, too weirded out to put up with this.

Carol nodded off while still thinking about the braids that had adorned her indescribable, her lovely and oh so beautiful face. A soft sigh escaped. What had they talked about in all of her dreams? What had they done together in bed and what had her face looked like with both eyes half-lidded, as though in a trance?

Her eyes surrendered to the quick nap, finally, and her nose could smell all the petals hidden inside of every thread of this blanket she was now holding tightly. Thirty more minutes to go. Invisible time was ticking by.

“Carol, will you wear something in red? Full and bright red, like the color of your lips, I mean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> August went by so fast... I hope everyone's summer has been nice and well. I've been reading a fair bit of Samuel Huntington, and now moving on to James C. Scott for the time being :-). All very good stuff!


	5. Shasta Daisies For Breakfast

1.

As Carol had fallen back asleep while still holding onto the phone handle against her face, her landline went unavailable and so she wasn’t able to receive any more of Therese’s phone calls to wake her up. Oopsie.

Underneath the mid-morning sun rays, out of fear that she was making her florist run behind schedules, upon rushing out from the living room she automatically gave a quick once-over throughout the area… From left to right, passing all of the now-quiet flowers only to stop short at the sight that greeted her eyes.  _ Oh, dear. _

There her florist was, leaning against her car hood with her body facing away at an odd angle – face aiming down and hands holding onto a certain little something that she just couldn’t make out yet. (What was it?) The curious object seemed too small to be a book, too compact to be house keys… and yet she was staring down at it oh so intensely, almost without a thought for all of the rest of her surroundings.

Creeping nearer upon the tips of her toes, Carol approached her companion while trying hard not to make much noise. Every ticking second brought her closer to soft wisps of brown hair and focused green eyes that she so wished were now roaming all over the plains of her face instead.

One, then two footsteps forward and Therese still seemed oblivious to her hovering. By the third movement, her view cleared out with the help of bright sunlight and, ah! So it was a small daisy that her florist had been studying – delicate and just as mesmerizing as the owner of the land where it had grown up on. It was the wild type that she’d seen clustering in uncontrollable bursts surrounding the four corners of her cottage, all of them rustling even without the breezes whenever she looked their way.

Sometimes she even thought that they grew and shifted overnight, one bush could sprout on several or more whenever she wasn’t paying attention to it. Sneaky and eager: Early in the morning after her first night here, they’d stopped right next to the bumper of her car at first. Innocuously ran along both sides of the small path leading up to her front porch and before she knew it (before she could stop to wonder if such growing speed was physically possible, especially this early in spring), they already had sprouted everywhere, these tiny, tiny weed-like little flowers… Looking like a map of all of the Southern ground-bound stars.

One of which was capturing all of Therese’s admiration for now. With a pretty twirl, the petals had her examine it in slow motion, and the younger woman looked rapt with awe.

She moved slowly – almost with uncertainty. At first, one index finger reached out to flirt, to ruffle and tease against the petals’ edges poking out from its milky-white halo. Traced through their underside, passed back and forth for several rounds in deep concentration before she brought the flower up and then closer toward her face. 

Skipping with purpose, the finger then ran around with careful determination, clockwise and her eyes kept tracks throughout the entire journey of it.

Was she counting them? Wanting to see how many skips it’d take?

Her serious gaze made Carol walk even slower and quieter just to avoid startling. One, two, three…

A long beat passed and doe eyes frowned, frowned sadly before darting to count through the halo once more, a last-resort protest out of stubbornness. Another eight-nine-ten, this round much slower and more careful as the rest of her body was almost suspended in time. …But, alas, it seemed like such effort was still futile since whatever the result was, Therese took away her finger with a softest sigh. Rolled her shoulders and then stood up straighter to put all past mysteries behind her back.

She then twirled the daisy upon her fingertips, while pinching it lightly to keep the plucked stem from drooping limp.

There Carol stood, curious and very much confused.

Just as her florist looked ready to close her palm against the wildflower to discard it, a petal fell off – just one – and surprise made her head jerk up, just so, trying to catch its movement before it could flutter with the winds and land somewhere out of sight here on the driveway. Dejection had turned into such strangest hope, all sprouted and carried by the whispering light breeze. In doing so, in bobbing her head up and down trying to look for it, she finally caught wind of Carol’s presence and if anything, it only made the both of them freeze in their spots momentarily, like two curious deer each running into its muse right in front of headlights.

Ah, busted. (And Therese made a cartoon-ish startled sound.)

For now, only for now did she act less like this prettiest deer’s silent admirer and more like a guileless companion while stalking closer. If this acting gig could ever be believable at all – “Morning again, Therese. What is it? Do you need help looking for something?”

“Oh… hi Carol. It’s alright, it was just a silly petal” – After a very quick intake of breath, her florist moved away from the car hood with a swift flourish that couldn’t hide her faint blush, still – “Are you all set?”

“I am now. Again, thanks for letting me sleep in, dear, I promise you that usually I am not like that. Have you been waiting for me here for long?”

“Don’t worry, I just came outside as well.”

So strangely, Carol noticed that the flower never got dropped from her hand, like what she surely had wanted to do earlier after counting through the petals. Twice.

As a matter of fact, it was now bobbing from between her fingertips with a merriest wave, seemingly oblivious to all of the curiosity that it had gathered. One, two, three. How many petals had her counting come up to? Before or after the tiniest one had departed out of sight?

2.

On the road to get them into town, for the past several minutes or so Carol had been keeping quiet as her florist looked like she was nodding on and off, sleepily, against the glass window of her car door. Well… It was either sleepiness, or she was deep in thought and now wandering somewhere inside of her own mind – quite difficult to say since she had yet learned to distinguish all of Therese’s expressions.

The whispering poplars passed behind her car in straight, neat rows.

And then, almost out of nowhere:

“So–”

The abrupt conversation starter seemed to wake Carol back up, and when she looked away from the empty road her florist cleared her throat with a very bashful smile – “Um, sorry for startling you. So what will you do today? Are you sure that you won’t get too bored at my shop?”

Oh, that… 

“Don’t worry, dear. I’ve brought the murder mystery book with me here, as well as some kind of non-fiction.”

She waved a hand for emphasis

“It’s this enormous book about the history of all types of hide and leather, since I figured that knowing more about the things I work with on a daily basis wouldn’t be a bad idea at all.”

“Really? What do you do for a living?”

“Me? Did I forget to tell you somehow? I buy, restore and then resell antique furniture, mostly…” 

Compared to tending to lovely flowers, her job was probably the least interesting thing she could think of; so much that it surely was to be found somewhere on the other end of the Fascinating-or-not? spectrum. Nevertheless, Therese let out a thoughtful hum and gave her beloved daisy a little twirl upon the tips of her two fingers.

As she was now leaning against the car door to give her her undivided attention, Carol tapped her fingers against the steering wheel to think of ways to keep their conversation going

“What about you then? What is on your to-do list today?”

“Let’s see… If I remember correctly, one of my regular wholesale customers might come over. Then I should start planting some more aromatic herbs if I have some free time.”

Aromatic herbs??

Oh… right. Therese was the only florist in town, people probably went to her to look for all sorts of products in the botanical variety as well.

“You know, in this town there is a sort-of specialty dish, it’s a kind of salad with fennel bulbs, parsley and chopped cilantro. It’s… horrible,  _ horrible _ and restaurants just keep putting it onto their menus, the  _ exact-same-thing _ every single year.”

She took her eyes away from the road once more – “Oh? I am sure that it can’t be  _ that _ bad, darling. Why do you hate it so much?”

“I  _ hate _ cilantro, it just doesn’t taste like food at all. Only weird and crazy people can like it, I think…”

Aw. What? Pouty little darling with a grunt like a small, bite-sized cherry on top, where did all of this come from? Carol chuckled and shifted to sit up just a slightest bit straighter behind the steering wheel – “I don’t mind it, and actually that dish does sound kind of appealing to me. Are you going to get grumpy for that as well? Am I just _ so  _ weird and crazy all of a sudden now?”

And just like that, her disgruntled frown evaporated just as quickly as rose water 

“Uh. I don’t… I am not being grumpy. Not you, I’m not–”

Her deep flush maybe could power up an entire household.

3.

Several moments before midday, conversations stilled by the emptied plate of sweet treats and they pursued their respective activities in relative silence.

“Okay… you can sit there if you want to, I should start working on some new seedlings now” – Distractedly, Therese had said then started to turn away… and almost ran into a vase filled full with yellow orchids.

What a clumsy, fiery and adorable little creature.

Nestled into the armchair Therese had dragged out from the backroom’s corner just for her usage, she was nose-deep by the third chapter of “Understanding Leather” when the little bell by the front door rang up a tune so joyfully. Footsteps echoed, the sounds of dress shoes tapped around at first and she glanced up to the view of a young, very handsome gentleman making his way further inside.

Carol tried to blend in with the more floral background.

Cleanly shaven and well-dressed – clad in decidedly good quality clothing, he glanced around the bursts of colors decorating the flower shop with a straight face and walked up nearer toward the counter.

“Good morning, Miss Belivet.”

Carefully masking in her facial expressions, she kept herself away from this exchange and turned to look at her darling florist: who smiled and nodded at him with an ease that must have come from regular interaction

“Good morning Alan. Are you here to renew the contract?”

Her ears perked up with even more curiosity. Her florist in work mode promised to be such a lovely, lovely sight to watch unfold.

“Yes, please” – Pulling some papers out from his leather satchel, he immediately lanced into their discussion – “Have you received our payment for this last month?”

“Oh, of course, thank you so much.”

“Very well then. So just like the previous years, the same setup for this season would be great, Miss. The rows in front of our building…”

Therese nodded and pulled out her own designs for them to compare together. He continued swiftly

“All the vases in the lobby as well. Our dining hall, everything just like last year’s arrangement. And–”

“And on each floor, the vases along your hallways like this?”

“That’s right. Also, for the upcoming two months we have all of our suites already booked full.”

Papers rustled together and Carol noticed the way they stood and talked without leaning in. Oh, but of course. She could recognize his outfit now – having collected her rental car from the outlet right next door – this gentleman must work for that gigantic hotel situated right in front of this town’s central train station.

Stiff shoulders, phrases efficient and very straightforward, maybe his indifference to her florist’s beauty was one of the reasons for his no-nonsensical tone of voice?

To her eyes, he still was a tad too young to truly have captured the arts of professionalism… not to mention the fact that he was living and working in this sleepy old town as well. His boyish looks, everything down to the cut of the hems of his dress pants suggested a livelier personality outside of this exchange that was one ounce too much, too formal to be neutral.

Maybe some sort of tension between the two? Were they…? (She tracked his eyes on her closely and tried to imagine a story that could have taken place.)

“So for those, management asked for the special kind that your shop offers–”

Looking up from her notes, Therese looked at him and somehow threw a very quick glance Carol’s way as well. By God, how stiff his body was looking, the way he held his shoulders up that way! That couldn’t be good for his posture, she thought with a strange sort of curiosity.

“Very well. Is it still ten suites in total?”

“For now, yes, but we are expecting some renovations soon” – He shifted and this new angle showed an unsure frown blooming up onto the top of his forehead, just so – “If we aren’t mistaken, they are the kind that stays fresh for a longer while…?”

To this, her lovely neighbor gave a faint smile to assure Alan

“Of course. I’ve noted your order correctly. Would that be all?”

“Yes, that is all for now.”

Some more pleasantries, a few short back-and-forths and “thank you so much for this” took place. For some reason sporting a hard look around the eyes, he sorted his papers and made to stand up even more stiffly. 

“Have a nice day, Miss.”

“You and everyone as well, Alan.”

“Have a nice day, Miss” – He addressed Carol on his way out and the bell on the front door marked his quick walk back toward the direction of his workplace.

Green eyes turned to her immediately and against private speculations, she smiled at the sight of her florist boasting a very good sale.

“ _Oh, my_. That was fast! And you were such a charming thing” – She stood up and walked to the counter, toward her florist now writing down her order in fuller details. Therese blushed but otherwise just smiled without resisting. 

“Oh, they’ve been buying from me for a long time now. Everything’s already standard, you know.”

“Why didn’t you two mention the extra cost for their reserved suites? Two months can mean a lot of flowers.”

Dainty fingers reached up to scratch around the top of her nose – “Ah. They asked for the same thing several years ago as well, whenever business seems to do better. I’ve always kept the same price so they are well aware…”

“I can see that, but you should discuss in detail each time anything in the contract gets modified, darling” – Carol stepped closer – “Just so everything is clear and always works to your advantage.”

Bustling like a bee, wordlessly Therese cleaned up her workstation and hummed, as carefree as ever could be.

“Oh Carol, I’m not worried. They have always paid me quite well.”

Picking up their pastry plate filled full with crumbs, she turned to look back at Carol – “So… are you hungry yet? Do you want to share with me? I made a lot of pasta this morning…”

By God, she ate so much but still managed to look that way!

Charmed by deep dimples, she shook her head to clear up the faint scent of sweet roses and moved to follow the trace of her footsteps deeper into the back of her storeroom. When they settled in by the table overlooking her vast back yard, almost on autopilot she reached a palm out to tuck dark hair behind her pretty florist’s earlobe.

Soft green tracked movements and only then did she notice that they really did have the habit of drifting nearer toward each other so closely. So, so closely now that she could make out the lovely shade of ancient forests curling so deep from within her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have [this video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SggkVu6sbxA) as a very loose inspiration for the daisy, and also for the general "atmosphere" of my writing... :) 


	6. The Tiny Beetles Who Wanted To Speed Things Up For Them

1.

With a combination of being bored of her books and not wanting to disturb Therese, after cleaning up from lunch she wandered, all by herself, deep into her colorful backyard through the zig-zagging pathways of finely-worn gravel.

As her lovely florist had given every corner a healthy dose of water right before the full sun came, the leaves looked shiny and the distinct smell of new rain was still lingering all throughout the area. Leaving a stray drop or two dripping down the center veins of some of her finest buds, down the flowers’ bases where petals met as well.

It was an adventure, all on its own, to just walk around aimlessly and absentmindedly like this. Wandering up and down alongside the isles while trying hard not to stumble through the water hose, Carol thought that it was kind of… unusual to see so many types of tropical trees and flowers thriving around here. The younger woman really did have some amazing green thumbs, did she not?

When (and where) had she even learned all of her skills from, since she still looked this young?

For example, the rose bushes looked  _ enormous  _ here, so much that it was feeling somewhat unreal! Weren’t these the kind that was imported – already cut and “pre-prepared” – from some faraway land where the sun could keep shining on daily? She had no idea that they could grow up here even, since as sunny as the summer months could be in this Southern half of the country, the annual climate just was not right. Not to mention the fact that now was only in the beginning of spring, the air was still quite cold every morning she’d spent here thus far.

No wonder why her neighbor was the only florist in town. Maybe all of her competitors hadn’t been able to compare with how utterly special and hard-working she was. The amount of work it must take to maintain this backyard alone… this,  _ plus _ the flower field sitting next to her cottage by the end corner of her driveway!

The roses’ petals kept on calling, calling and whispering to gather more of her imagination.

Huh… 

They originally were from… somewhere, somewhere… Somewhere sunny and from another continent, far oceans away, but where was it? Oh, damn it, why did her memory always run foul whenever she needed it the most, needed it like right now?

She knew where it was, had even read a long article in some newspaper about it before. Surely it’d just take a while for the name of that country to come back here, upon the top of her forehead. A while longer than what she herself would have wanted, but it’d get there _surely_. Eventually. (For the pale flower would bloom whenever it most wanted to.)

In the meantime, it was wonderful to just get lost on purpose now. While once upon a century she’d only admired from a safe distance, now through daring strokes of courage could she come to touch her muse. The fine petals were all so smooth, their fibrous surface unbelievably silky to the touch as well – not to mention the way the leaves and flowers were perking up fully! It looked like the water given by Therese had nourished them well, since they now looked like the very epitome of “being alive”, as chatty and talkative as ever could be, rustling back and forth underneath her ten fingers.

And almost as an afterthought, she looked up and did a sweeping search in hopes of finding the wild clusters of her daisies. Were they here somehow? Tucked into some rarely-appreciated corner perhaps?

But… no, not at all it seemed, for the full white bushes from earlier this morning were nowhere to be noticed. Of course not. After all, since no person within their right mind would come in and pay for wildflowers, why would Therese ever want to keep them here?

Carol sighed softly. She had grown to love the sight of them looming right outside of every pane of her windows: All of them standing up onto their tiptoes while almost demanding to peek indoors.

2.

It was after these precious moments alone in the backyard slash glass door-free greenhouse that _disaster_ landed. Well… fine, she supposed that she shouldn’t have worded it like that. The incident was not a disaster, not _per se_ , but all at the same time (all things considered), it was still very highly and deeply embarrassing for her ego.

The ladybugs were here.

Oh, they were here alright and as overtly-cruel fate would have it, Carol just so happened to  _ despise  _ this particular species with all of her might. She  _ hated _ the tiny little things, had never found them even remotely adorable, despised them with a passion as grand and as insistent as a looming rose and– Ah. Okay, she could understand now what her florist had felt earlier when it came to the cilantro situation. Why, point taken indeed.

A trip to the washroom revealed the sight imprinted upon a small mirror the size of her palm with fingers outstretched. So small that it couldn’t even show the entirety of her head down to the front, upper half-bust with all of the other details of her features as well. Like some hastily-sketched marble before the creator could commence his work, it only had enough surface to show the ends of some of her blond curls, here on the left side… Along with a sliver of her neck and one lone collarbone peeking out from the ruby-red dress hem. The very same color that Therese had shyly said that it’d go compatibly with her lips, just so.

Oh my God. It was almost impossible to think about the name of the country where exotic bright roses came from, as well as the implication that her florist had been noticing her lips’ color when there were  _ five _ ladybugs happily setting their bodies upon the poor, unsuspecting strands of her hair!

Five!

She could hardly believe in her terrible luck right now.

And  _ maybe _ she hated them only because she found them oh so scary, maybe so; But other than Rindy, no other person could ever know this truth. Shhh.

With a very tense grimace, Carol dried her hands and rushed back into the flower shop’s display area – “Uh. Therese? Do you think you could–”

The woman in question hummed dreamily and raised her eyebrows without looking away from her halfway-decorated lovely bouquet. While it looked very beautiful, with all of its colors evenly distributed and everything…

“There is this _something_. Is there any way at all…”

Wallowing in discomfort, she stepped in nearer to catch the younger woman’s attention. Every footstep felt like a moment too tense and way too long, waiting for her to look up and react and please just  _ please _ help her get away from this absolute abomination. Oh gosh, why. Why was there an entire family of these beastly little things, why here and now?

“Therese, dearest. Some God-awful bugs from the back yard have crawled onto my hair, do you think that you could get them off of me?? Now, like _right now_??”

Each syllable felt like a strain and only with this particular tone of her voice did Therese turn back around with curious wide eyes, shades of bright green that just as rapidly showed deep concern – “Oh! Yes, of course. Is there any kind of allergy you might have to them?”

“Not at all, I’m not allergic, it’s just… Hmmm…”

At first, she hesitated to talk because, well, wasn’t it just so terribly embarrassing?

Ladybugs were probably the only things on Earth that could give her this reaction – while every single cell of her body knew damn well that these crawly things couldn’t affect her in any important, significant way. Hell, even if they were here and on her skin directly, she doubted that she could feel their presence, let alone on some outer strands of her hair right now. But of course the irrational part of her brain was being very adamant about what it would or would not care to tolerate, and these five little horrors hadn’t been able to pass its test.

In the meantime, just as quickly, her florist had grabbed onto the nearest object: an empty seed packet within immediate reach on her workstation. Then with self-assured and firm hands, she guided her to lean up against the corner reserved for wrapping papers, just so the both of them could have a tiniest bit more of stability.

It was easy to ignore the situation at hand by focusing intently into the feeling and the pressure of her fine fingertips upon her skin. Body now on autopilot, Carol put her palms onto the counter and settled all of her weight against these contact points.

So shyly, the younger woman stepped into her orbit and all possible eloquent phrases and sentences flew off, off and away from the non-existent glass door of her greenhouse.

“It’s alright, don’t squirm too much. Here” – Therese softly whispered while leaning in and  _ of course _ her traitorous body’s breathing function just had to choose that next moment to hitch, erratically so. Right then and there. Oh wonderful, classic Carol. The movement shook her throat embarrassingly, and her darling florist sort of  _ gulped  _ while still trying very hard to gather up the whole group of the tiny little buggies.

The first bug got put on top of the seed packet and it just stood there completely unmoving, with a self-satisfied sort of aura. Almost there just to wait for the other four to come and rejoin it. Oh, what the hell.

“How did this happen?”

Although quite muffled, her soft voice gave off a low tremble that seemingly just couldn’t be hidden for herself.

She made some very intense efforts to just stand stock-still while letting the younger woman chase and comb the way all over her hair – “I have no idea… Maybe I leaned in too closely to smell the orchids? And so they flew onto me?”

Therese bobbed her head up and down and she could see that she was trying hard to not come in too near, here against her body. It’d be alright, it was just five innocent and harmless little buggies. Carol Ross would come out of this safe and sound and in one piece, oh, yes, absolutely so. She could and she would do it, no problem at all.

… 

After a few moments of her delicately flicking her index finger against her hair, hoisting the  _ abominable _ beasts onto her nail one by one before dropping them on top of the colorful square of paper – four times the same exact movements now, for she was counting – upon shifting her eyes away from the seed packet to look back at her hair Therese froze stiffly and suddenly… And oh no this could not end well. Nothing was  _ alright _ all of a sudden, just like that.

Was it because she had wanted to sleep in earlier this morning, maybe some kind of tricky butterfly effect?

“What is it…?”

Her florist cringed with sympathy before turning a small angle to look up at her – “The fifth one just flew away from your hair and down to the lower base of your neck. Don’t you feel it at all?”

Oh gosh, ew.  _ No _ she didn’t. The face she made was all that needed to be conveyed, and the soft palm that danced down to chase its journey couldn’t have moved anymore sweeter than this. If only the circumstances had been different and Carol had not been in the middle of cursing up a storm from deep within the furthest corner of her mind.

But her florist seemed to hesitate somehow. Her finger – the one that’d counted through the small daisy – stilled without touching her neck and her huge eyes stared, unblinking; While at the same time Carol felt like she was two full seconds away from imploding into a small-scale crisis. Had she mentioned that ladybugs were the only things on Earth that could make her feel frightful?

“Dearest? Could you please–”

“Oh… of course. Okay.”

Therese made a soft sound before finally grazing her neck to pull off the little thing, lest it could stay and cause even more mayhem.

She had to tell herself repeatedly that this was platonic, her florist was just trying to help her out, and that this absolutely did _not_ mean what her stubborn heart was building up a whole lengthy fairytale over. Therese’s hesitation before stepping in was due to the fact that they didn’t know each other all that much, that and because she surely must’ve had her own qualms regarding personal space as well. Because, because, _because_ …

Well, mostly because it sounded just too good to be true. Surely someone this beautiful and brilliant couldn’t fall into her lap, out of nowhere just like that, thanks to some generous benevolence of the springtime sun. There always was a catch somewhere. What if she preferred men only, and what if she shunned Carol away? Not to mention the obvious age gap that stood to separate their worlds. Surely Therese had never and would never want to have anything to do with her heart at all.

Her vacation wouldn’t last forever. Best to stop this inkling of feelings before it’d have the chance to bloom and grow into something bigger that she never could put out…

“Oh, you. That’s enough now!”

Upon the frustrated faint growl, Carol snapped away from her mopey daydreaming – just in time to catch the exasperation marring all over her florist’s eyebrows. Was that, and was all of this frowning meant to be for her?

No, wait, it couldn’t be, since her eyeline was still aiming at the little  _ something  _ somewhere on her neck.

Then Therese glanced up and was startled upon their eye contact, once more. She then looked away ten times just as hastily. (Yet another evidence that she didn’t feel  _ like that _ for her. Was it really that much of a surprise?)

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean you. It’s just that the bug is being kind of stubborn…”

With every second that passed by quietly, the younger woman looked like she was growing to be less and less at ease. Was it really that difficult to be next to her?

A decisive flick of her finger and it looked like the last bug had finally been taken away, thus deposited onto the seed packet with all of its other fellows. Whew. That was that, there was no more mortifying panic hovering over the ever-approaching horizon for now. (And was Therese giving the little bugs a particularly stern and disapproving side-eye?)

Green eyes looked at her closely, and now that all of that ordeal was over, she tried to stand back up and to just be her usual self.

“I keep them around in case of aphids, you know. I’m sorry, if I’d known that you were scared of them I would have told you from the very beginning, before you could walk into the back yard…”

Oh, well. Now Rindy  _ and _ her florist were both aware of her phobia for these tiny things. She supposed that it was hard to keep it under wraps at any rate, with the way it had been impossible for her to take care of these menaces all by herself.  _ Oh, well _ indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Mid-autumn festival, if anyone here celebrates it! :)


	7. She Loves Me, She Loves Me Lots

Therese slowly untangled away. Left the space right in front of her body (already reserved and re-shaped for her smaller frame) and turned around fully to pick up the seed packet… Then with just one last shy glance to acknowledge Carol’s ever-steady eyes, she started to walk back into her colorful back yard to let them fly off.

Still wary and just a tiniest bit shaky on her knees, at first she followed at a safe, bug-free-guaranteed distance. Discreet movements to avoid stirring up the quiet atmosphere, and it didn’t take her long to lean against the door frame situated several feet behind her darling florist – who now was crouching lower, the same height as her bonsai, while dipping the packet against the dry leaves of a small Meyer lemon tree.

A bit of a shake to hurry up the teasing bugs and then she was immobile, looking like she was deep in thought and staring off and into space.

With their bodies aligned like this, it gave her the opportunity to look discreetly at the back of the younger woman’s frame. A careful study of sorts: her form hunched forward, one hand on top of her knee while the other was wiping dust off of the lemon leaves, every movement thoroughly careful and light. When her soft dark hair met the crook of her shoulders – right there – the strands all tumbled out in sweet waves and she thought about the contrast it would leave on her skin if she was to walk forward, three simple footsteps, not more, just to be able to touch and to feel it for herself.

It really would be so easy, she knew that, had known maybe from the moment she showed up asking for the three spoonfuls of honey for her nightly tea. Oh, wait. Or was it during those moments of her first morning here in town, when she’d offered to drive her home, that her heart had decided with such swift determination that it  _ liked _ Therese oh so very much?

How did all of this happen without her knowing at all?

Oh– but Carol knew. Yes she did; it was just that she had forgotten, had not wanted to resist this time around, and now all that was left for her to do was to pick up a lovely flower… check the number of its petals to see if she liked her, or if she liked her not at all. Odd or even, she hoped with utmost reverence for the former case.

But which flower here would be best? Which one amidst this most beautiful and colorful back yard?

Maybe not a four-leaf clover. Never that, because the chant would then stop at Therese having no feelings for her, and no one in the history of romance had ever wanted to hear such words. Who in the world had come up with the idea that four-leaf clovers could bring forth good luck, anyway?

The Meyer lemon flowers all carried five petals, she noticed with a private smile. What did it mean, was it a coincidence and should she start to hope for more? What about the small daisy that Therese had held onto this morning while waiting for her and leaning against the top of her car hood?

What about… What about…

Some movements brought her out of her daze and she blinked as the younger woman stood up straighter, thus started to put some distance between her body and the small blossoming tree.

This meant that her florist was shuffling backward, absentmindedly playing with the empty seed packet (now that the tiny bugs had happily hopped off with a smug farewell) while getting closer… and closer. Dangerously close to bumping straight into Carol, who was still leaning against the door frame to discreetly watch. Remembering her discomfort earlier when she’d been asked to move nearer to take the ladybugs away, so haltingly, she tried to move backward as well to avoid this crash-landing collision–

But oh, no, she wasn’t being fast enough. At the last footstep separating their two bodies, Therese turned around – mind still wandering somewhere far off – and more or less jumped up with unhidden surprise when they came face to face without much distance left to maneuver out of it. 

“Oh!”

Squeaking softly, the younger woman tried to move to the side to minimize their colliding.

Her own attempt to move backward wasn’t at all successful, what with their space being right on the neck of this one-inch-too-narrow hallway, and also her arms shot out to stabilize her florist… Who had been on the verge of halfway falling against her body and halfway against the sturdy door frame, either possibility sounding just as ripe with the promise of discomfort and awkwardness.

Momentum brought them closer, only one or two hair’s breadth left in-between their fronts: not enough for direct contact but this, this was the closest that they had ever come near. A small bee falling asleep inside of its flower, so snug and warm. _Oh_.

Her green eyes were blowing up widely with their eye contact, but this time it didn’t look like she was being uncomfortable around Carol.

This close, she thought that she could feel everything, all the senses of her body alert and brightly ringing. From the shock of perfume that greeted her nose, distilled flowers carefully-chosen and more fragrant than anything she’d ever noticed, to the way her soft skin was melting underneath her hands. A bare sliver here, around the crook of her right elbow and another grip, this time against such terribly thin clothing, pinning up the ball of her fine shoulder on the left as well.

“Therese…” – She only could whisper – “Be careful.”

But had she not followed her out here to look without announcing her presence, there would have been no need to be so careful, oh, absolutely not at all. Being aware of this fact brought over a light brush of heat onto her cheekbones, which she hoped very distantly that the fine woman inside of her arms wouldn’t notice nor think about all too much.

Therese wasn’t resisting their physical proximity…

But… why not?

They were hovering so closely against each other now. In her scrabbling to not fall sideways, the younger woman had reacted by hastily grasping onto the nearest “object”, and so her palms had ended up somewhere here, on her back, nearing the middle underneath her two shoulder blades. They now looked posed and all ready for a bit of a waltz, to whatever music the flowers would put on.

Carol smiled lightly to soothe her surprise… and to her own private, detective-like musings, those wide eyes immediately flew down and wished that they could replace lipstick.

“Therese” – Another repeated murmur – “Is everything alright?”

The pretty darling blinked, shifted her body but never once unwrapped her arms. (Oh?)

Once again, then. The third repetition of her name had her blush like a little bloom. Both palms now leaving her back, she stood up straighter and thus left the immediate orbit of Carol’s body – “I’m sorry. I got distracted, I didn’t notice that you’ve walked in here with me.”

“Still, I shouldn’t have startled you like that. Are you sure that you’re alright?”

“I’m– I’m fine, everything’s alright. Uh… excuse me again, I have to go use the restroom now.” 

Oh. With one last glance all over her face, Therese sped off to the furthest end of her garden. Alone for now, nay, alone once more, she sighed, chastised herself before moving the other direction to regain her flower shop’s display area.

…

She then approached the glass counter of Therese’s workstation. Here the daisy was, standing out amid all of the cluster and discarded stems. Carefully set on top of a piece of wrapping paper, it still looked fresh and perky even though half of their day together had rushed by within the span of a wistful shut of her eyes.

_Curious_ , she was now the most curious that she could ever remember being.

One, two, three…

Oh, shoot– someone just walked by the front door, got Carol distracted, and so she had to start once more from the very beginning. Between the hallway and her wandering around this counter to wrestle with curiosity, how much time had passed ever since her florist had chosen to leap off from her arms? What would she say if she caught her like this, quietly toying with a wildflower, how would she even explain herself?

Hurrying up with renewed determination, she pulled it closer to be able to distinguish its petals more clearly. Another one, two, three…

Seventeen petals. Oh yes, yes, she did hope for Therese’s affection with an intensity many times greater than the number of leaves of a common Irish clover. This was not big news. Heart beating noisily, she put it back down, carefully arranging it into more or less the same angle at which she had first reached to pull it into her palm – for now not wanting her florist to discover all of these most private feelings.

And then she walked out onto the pavement for some fresh air. To breathe, and to digest the way everything was feeling more real with every petal she’d counted her way through. Were her cheeks now heating up uncontrollably, and what if Therese came outside and saw her like this?

Therese, Therese, _Therese_ …

But, come again. She just remembered something: a very important detail. Had her darling not counted these petals too, by her car on the driveway, earlier this morning while still waiting for her to come on outside? Had she not looked sad and despondent, for a very brief second as well, before one lone petal fell off (the eighteenth one, then) and then hope had come and rushed like deep waves all around her face?

Seventeen petals for Therese, and indeed she had looked oh so wonderfully hopeful and brave. This could only mean that she, too, had been wishing in silence that affection was blooming up from within Carol’s eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is connected with the 5th one, between the daisy's petals, the "will she or won't she" hesitation and the short video for Giselle... I even found a [Wikipedia page](https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/He_loves_me..._he_loves_me_not) that mentions all of this
> 
> Anyway, for a bit of a side note here, recently I've also been working on some personal stuff (I usually have a bad temper IRL, and recently it's been giving me very bad headaches and tense jaws. Like a very low-stake The Shining, the book I mean)... so I've been a bit out of it, and this story feels so flat and disjointed sometimes... but maybe that's just me? If you don't feel the same way I do, then I'm very glad! But if you do... uh... we shall see if it eventually improves? :)
> 
> Cheers!


	8. Water As A Motif Of Memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to start this chapter (in Therese's point of view) with [the painting](https://www.uffizi.it/en/artworks/botticelli-spring) that has inspired all of this story :) There is a close-up scan of Flora on that webpage. Botticelli is hardly ever a bad idea!

With the last droplets of water still dripping down from gravity, Therese blindly reached for a handkerchief. Just a few more minutes to cool off this stubborn blush that’d blossomed with the way that her body had pressed up so closely upon Carol’s…

And when she opened her eyelids – now dry – the small bird who’d always loved to fall asleep on the orange tree already had landed up on top of the window pane of her restroom.

“Ah, here you are. Where have you been?” – She immediately reached to pet its little head – “I came back from the convent a couple of days ago, so I’ve been wondering why you haven’t come by to see me yet.”

Making a disgruntled sound, it started to tell her all of the things that it had seen during her absence.

“Wait, shhh, slow down for just a little bit. Stay here.”

Therese poked her head out of the restroom’s door to look through the narrow hallway: her (mysterious?) tenant seemed to have walked off. All the better, then, because she knew that the sight of her talking to this little bird wouldn’t be so easy to understand. When she closed the thin door to ensure some privacy, the bird took that as an invitation to gossip even more loudly.

After some kind of drama concerning some other animals in the forest, it was now spilling the beans about something oh _so_ scandalous, almost never-before-seen. Oh, yes, something utterly _unforgivable_ concerning–

Carol??

“She _stole_ an orange on her first night here?”

Its antics were just so amusing, but she knew that chuckling or laughing out loud would just rile it up and make it even more worked-up than the way it already was right now.

“No, of course I didn’t know. I didn’t notice that it was missing. If it’s just a single orange, I really don’t mind.”

The bird responded by jumping up and down – not knowing how else to get her to understand just how terrible her wrongdoing was. Not to mention the fact that she had disappeared for all of these years, only to come back here out of nowhere and act without thinking twice like that. She should have known better! Should have asked before taking something that clearly was not hers–

“Oh, you. Always so dramatic. Who told you that Flora _disappeared_? It was a lot more complicated than that” – She tried to soothe it by rubbing her index finger back and forth repeatedly underneath its chin – “I don’t think that my newest tenant is Flora though. Do you? She can’t be her if she is so afraid of those teeny little ladybugs I keep around here…”

The incident from earlier had added up to some of her doubts. Even though so many millennia had passed since then, seas had dried off and mountains had formed, it was hard to believe that the essence of someone could stand to change so much. Could one ever be the Goddess of Springtime while being wary of tiny bugs and of nature itself? She was sure that if one day should she stop loving flowers, she would stop existing forever and completely… and then “Therese Belivet” would just be no more on Earth.

Nevertheless, Carol had the same kind of wavy hair – golden just like one of their past suns, the most brilliant of all kinds, the brightest – and more or less the same smile, height and build as her ancient Goddess back then. Having seen the latter only once or twice from afar without any sort of direct interaction, she didn’t know what else to compare her tenant with. Was she or was she not Flora?

What if she wasn’t at all, and all of this was just some mere coincidences? How to ask without sounding absolutely insane?

(“Hi Carol… Is there any possibility that you are Flora, the Roman Goddess of Spring? No one could find you ever since all of us had to leave our lovely garden, the invaders broke in just so abruptly. You look just like her, the trees and all of my flowers keep convincing me that you are so I have to ask…”)

Both of them agreed that it sounded way too crazy to even try.

Therese stood up and leaned against the drywall to think some more.

“I really have no idea. At first, I thought that Danny or Phil asked her to convince me to hurry up with my moving, but… why did she agree to come all the way down here? We never really talked back then. And then _she_ told me that she didn’t know who any of my friends was, so now I have to guess that she really isn’t Flora.”

_Carol…_

Whoever she was, Carol had been very warm and kind to her. Ever since her first morning here, her tenant had been so unbelievably gentle: had been offering to help her out, to drive her around and just to keep her company in her daily life. Whenever those imperious grey eyes stopped to look at her, she almost felt like a bright flower… or like a rare exception held inside her hands. She didn’t know that such a shade of color could look that sweet, could want to run like soft water all over her face.

What did Carol have in mind whenever she smiled at her like that? Had Flora ever smiled, _that way_ , while looking at anyone else? Well… maybe her lover – whoever that was – because if memory was serving Therese correctly, her Greatness had been pregnant the last time she heard, before all of them were forced to “skip town”. Quite close to delivery, even. Their entire garden had been looking forward to the imminent arrival of their sweetest (and smallest) ruler.

And what a smile it was! Her lips would curl up, just so, her mouth shiny like an invitation and then almost every single time the trees’ teasing would just go so wild, would just want to force them together underneath one roof.

They seemed to be whispering rumors, seemed to be ceaselessly teasing that her tenant _liked_ her. Liked her, wanted to touch her face and to be with her, and the very idea of that was just so– oh, it was just so preposterous. If she was Flora, then she was placed too high up in their hierarchy while Therese herself belonged so many ranks lower. She knew that Flora deserved to be with somebody her equal and ever so much more than that.

And if she wasn’t… oh, well, then the truth still remained that Therese would never be a “real” human and so they could not work.

But why was she even thinking about this at all? She had been terribly, terribly busy, there was just no time. The irony did not escape her that for all of the meager advantages immortality granted, she had been having troubles finding some free time to just enjoy her daydreaming.

_The-rese aaand Carol, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S !!!_

See, it really was impossible to tell them off, not to mention the fact that all of this was just so highly embarrassing to her as well. What if Carol understood their words? What then? What if she found out what the daisy from this morning meant to her, what if she figured it out that it’d let go of one of its petals just to tease her with the possibility of having her heart?

And then the little bugs had invited themselves into this improv scene as well. Unable to foresee the fact that the other woman was so scared of them, they had clung on top of her hair, had played this prank to force them to interact with each other. Oh, hell, and to make things worse, she did not feel them being apologetic even after this entire ordeal. When she’d shooed them back into the garden, they had hopped off gleefully all the while wishing her all the best of luck.

And to think that they were supposed to be _her_ subjects, living here in _her_ tiny kingdom! (Ugh. Kids these days, she should have been so much sterner while they still were inside of their tiny eggs on the leaves of her bonsai trees.)

Out of all of this, her little bird seemed to be the only pragmatic one around here… although not for good nor very understandable reasons either. Even now, it was trying to convey that it distrusted Carol – did not like her nor want her anywhere around Therese at all. Hmmm.

“Little birdie, tell me” – She whispered and then crouched down, closer – “Why don’t you like Carol? She is so beautiful, and so kind to me.”

It grunted and attempted to peck menacingly.

“What do you think? Maybe she just wanted a new friend as well?”

Then all of her flowers chimed in again, so smugly, to tell her that that was not true.

“Hey, not all of you too! Stop it with your matchmaking! You know that I really don’t have time for any of that right now…”

Shushing them more or less effectively, she turned back around to rub on the top of her bird’s head – “Are you so upset because you think that she would convince me to move away from here much sooner than planned?”

It made a frantic move and hopped away from her finger.

“You know that I have to, eventually. I don’t think the townspeople will let me stay here for long now, they get scared and angry because they don’t understand… They never do. It has always been like this.”

… 

Her blush from holding onto Carol’s figure having cooled off adequately, she knew that she should not hide here forever-and-ever at any rate. After promising the bird that they’d talk some more, Therese dipped one finger into the running faucet before feeding it the tiny droplets that dripped down slowly: Such was the fun tradition that they had shared together ever since it was still young.

“Okay, off you go now. I’ll see you before going up to the convent with Carol, then? And don’t forget to tell your mate that I say hi!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Between the daisy, the ladybugs and the return of the bird overtly protective of its oranges, their day together at the flower shop ended up being 4 chapters long... Their trip to the convent should start on the next update then, which I plan to organize in 3 chapters, 3 days to follow the form of a triptych painting.
> 
> I also mean for Therese's convent to follow a faith more or less similar to that of the Carthusian Order, whose motto is "The Cross is steady while the world is turning". Which is so beautiful! The Monastère de la Grande Chartreuse is near Grenoble, only a few hours by car from Therese's town :) I also knew this one guy, from high school, who joined this order 2 or 3 years ago... Would LOVE to know what he thinks of 2020 now that he is so far removed from all of it...


	9. The Garden Of Earthly Delights (Part 1)

1.

Not wanting to forget the pot of rosemary she had been meaning to carry to the convent as a gift for Alicia, Therese brought it over with her to Carol’s cottage for the very well-anticipated breakfast-for-two together before they finally could hit the road.

Now it just sat there, perched on top of the dining table like a third participant of fresh-toast-with-coffee, and surreptitiously she could see Carol eyeing it from time to time with an amused little crinkle up on the top of her forehead.

Nibbling on some toast topped with violet jelly, her tenant quietly studied the map that took up almost half of the space on top of her dining table – And what this meant was that they had to sit like this, huddled over to just this one half-moon instead of opposite from each other like the first time she’d come over to take a plunging dip within honey. Not that she was  _ complaining  _ that their elbows were grazing against each other, oh no, no, nothing like that. Therese had been thinking to herself, quite regularly these days even, that she really could get used to sharing one same side of the dining table with Carol for breakfast, for tea time and for ever so much more.

Carol glanced up at her and through luck alone was she able to make it look like she was not staring rudely. Looked down toward the map with a gentle hum, seemingly oblivious to the way Therese could not look away from the magnificent fine lines accentuating the contours of her red lips. Nibbled at her food very quietly and then studied printed rivers some more for some very  _ very _ long moments before smiling at last.

“Hm. So what’s with the pot of rosemary you’ve put there today? Are you ever going to tell me about it?”

Oh! She’d said nothing about it because she didn’t think that Carol would be interested, that was all. It was just some rosemary, the usual kind with tiny purple flowers here and there though not too much. Wanting to have something to keep her hands well busy, she pulled it closer to fix up the tiny branches’ arrangement – just to make them puff up like a bush – and with her tugging she felt her beautiful grey eyes move and shift alongside every tiny flower that stubbornly avoided her hold.

“It’s a gift for Alicia, the head Sister of the convent we’re going to go to now…”

With curious and open eyes, Carol looked up and nodded her head slowly to encourage for more of her words – “Hmm?”

“She really loves cooking with fresh sprigs like these. Did you know …that rosemary is the traditional gift to celebrate remembrance?”

(“Do you remember our garden, Carol? Do you?”, she wanted to really ask.)

“Remembrance?” – Carol asked softly, then dipped her head lower to try and catch her gaze.

Therese gulped inaudibly. As they were sitting side by side like this, that marvelous face and her entire upper body were leaning in so, so closely; and her huge grey eyes looked like they were asking to hear stories, the lengthiest of fairy tales. Whispered remembrance… anything, anything that she could give. Unhidden anticipation was sparkling brightly.

She hastily reached for a fresh glass of water to buy some time, to figure out an appropriate story that didn’t sound too weird.

Against her bestest of all wishes, it hadn’t been easy to deal with all of her interactions with Carol these days. Her bad mood was partially to be blamed for it – things had been going downhill lately, and it was shocking that it’d taken Alan’s visit for her to realize that her reign out here was steadily approaching its ultimate farewell. His obvious displeasure, his entire  _ face _ filled with distrust when he had to come over to renew his hotel’s contract the other day. …And to make things worse, she was sure that Carol had seen everything. Had grown concerned and wanted to defend Therese.

But there was no need. There really, really was no need at all.

She could feel it everywhere: The townspeople had run out of understanding and patience, and feigned ignorance rarely brought real peace to soothe one’s mind. She knew that it was hard to explain to younger kids her immortality, how “Therese Belivet” never would grow old for as long as she stayed down here right next to the rocky wildforest. Hard to explain how certain flowers took weeks to fade in the longest hallways of hotels and hospitals, and she was the only person who could predict their crops yearly.

The air had grown terribly cold and hostile, she’d gotten no sleep and so Danny had been trying to ask her to hurry up with her moving back into the city before things could turn sour. Back into the safety of anonymity, the comfort of a city so big that all of the oldest Gods meant nothing to life. Some time in the convent with Alicia could bring some more colors onto her cheeks, she hoped sincerely so. They could start planning what to do with her lands and influence on the flora all around this region of the country.

Rosemary to reminisce the long years and decades she hadn’t gone through her reincarnation cycle, she supposed that that was the true meaning of her gift.

Of course. Therese finally knew what to tell her curious tenant – “I’ve known Alicia for a long time now. This rosemary is to …thank her, really, for her presence in my life.”

Ah, there she went. It wasn’t a lie, not in the purest sense of it. She couldn’t lie about the number of years they had known each other if she just never mentioned it at all.

A very soft exhale.

Still holding her gaze, Carol looked at her closely and carefully. She leaned her face onto a propped-up palm with her chin supported by the base of it, and seemed to be searching for something, something in her eyes – “For a long time, you say? Is it– I mean, since you were still young…?”

“Mhmm” – She nodded and admired the beautiful shape of her cheekbones. Her tenant was just  _ so _ beautiful, so much that it was getting harder and more challenging to look away.

“And she and the convent helped you when you first moved out? Did you come here directly when you were of age?”

Huh?

When she was of age? First moved out of the convent?

What did–

Oh!

She blinked and reared her head back in confusion – in doing this, she still could see Carol’s effort to hold onto their eye contact steadily. Grey eyes soothing and trying to promise her something.

She must have understood that Therese grew up there in the convent, under the Sisters’ care! It was not uncommon for religious structures to take in children, she had heard about it in the news from time to time. Something called an _orphanage_? Oh well. It did make sense: She could see the logic behind her reasoning, what’d made her come to the final conclusion that way. Carol must have noticed that she had no family here in town to speak of, and if normal people did have a choice, they rarely would settle into a place like this to establish an independent life and career.

Well, if the shoes did fit, then maybe she should wear them – “Um… In a way, I suppose so. We go way back, as they say…”

Unprompted, some memories of Alicia’s first years in the convent came into mind and Therese had to keep her amused, fond grin in check. Her comical expression upon understanding how Therese never grew older, and why oh why all of the grapes atop of the green vines backyard could sprout even in late spring.

All in the meantime, Carol was still looking at her in such a peculiar manner: She was looking at her like she wanted to tell her something, and so in waiting she stared right back.

Her tenant really was just so unbelievably beautiful, and while this wasn’t the first time she’d grown starstruck – oh! Far from it – the exhilaration of sudden thunder still rose up from within her body like the three deep notes of any good perfume. Her fine jawline and cheekbones. Behind the steering wheel and whenever she stood to look at the scenery, her eyes looked so sharp… yet they melted like thawed ice as soon as they glanced back around to keep tracks of Therese. Her lips, how they looked like the utmost enchanting invitation wrapped into a grin. Base, heart and top.

Her name was Carol Ross, she had said back then. It sounded just like a wonderfully red love note, the brightest of colors of any other fine love song. Right there, right in this quiet and warm moment, Therese thought that she could cave and trust in the insistent teasing of all of her flowers, helplessly.  _ Carol aaand Therese, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S !!! _

And yet Carol leaned back, shook her head and smiled gently. (Why did she have to lean back so far away? Could she not see that her resolve was growing weak?)

“Oh, you must find me so terribly dreadful, after all. I really didn’t mean to pry” – Her eyes shifted away at first, then they came back and sparkled once more – “I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable…”

But it was not prying, for she could feel that Carol cared for her deeply. Cared for her enough to piece together all of her clumsy, half omission and half truth sentences just to try to understand her some more. And Therese was not uncomfortable, not at all in the past or far future, so she then said

“I am never made uncomfortable when I’m with you, Carol.”

“Never?”

She shook her head and held her gaze. Surely Carol must have seen, must have noticed it – this  _ something  _ that she still hid quietly, not yet brave enough to spell it out.

“Never.”

In awe, in the greatest of all of life’s wonders, Carol made another low sound and smiled at her upon seeing that finally, finally, she had not run nor looked away.

2.

“You know, I do wonder what you were like when you were younger…”

Oh. Looking away from the pot of rosemary singing in her lap, Therese turned around to look at Carol – but behind the steering wheel, the latter was still keeping her eyes ever so steady on the empty road. She had left the city so many years ago, so the last time that she’d been “younger” was… say, some twenty-odd years before her leave. Give or take. What was she like the last time that she was a child?

“Nothing terribly glamorous, if I remember correctly…”

“Oh?” – Her tenant chuckled, glanced at her and she suddenly just felt so flustered when grey eyes met her stare – “I want to know, still. What did you like to do? Are there a lot of photos taken from that time?”

_Come on_ , Therese. Think of something now, imagine something quickly. Her mind went blank, not only because of Carol’s dazzling figure but because …well. She had never found it so easy to let a lie squirm out through her teeth, so here went:

“I’ve always loved spending time out in the vegetables and flower fields since I was younger… And, no, there really isn’t any photo, I’m afraid…”

It came out almost as though she was a bad actress trying to read a line from her script terribly clumsily.

“Oh, what a shame. Therese, I am sure that you must be really photogenic, no?”

Huh. She supposed that it was a bit of the pot calling the kettle black – this compliment coming from Carol, of all things. The rosemary flowers now had started to tease her about her tenant’s affection as well, and it was just so distracting! When did everybody join in onto this childish campaign?

Feeling embarrassed, she glared at it and flicked a finger against the mouth of its small clay pot to chastise.

She also should find a private moment to talk to Alicia, to remind her not to say anything overly suspicious. If she herself was this bad of a liar, then the Sisters surely would bear her curious interrogations even worse than her.

So no talk about Therese’s “childhood”, no reaction if her tenant ever acted surprised upon seeing grapes and lavender abundant around this month… And last but not least, absolutely  _ no  _ interrogation about the whole Carol-allegedly-being-Flora spiel! It was just these three small things to remember, surely Alicia would be more than able to keep her secret. No worries at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second impeachment.................................???


End file.
